Chapter 593: Bartkum Shipyard
The first civilian shipyard Ernst visited was named Bartkum Shipyard. According to its director, Bartkum was a small town in the East Frisian Islands of northern Germany, which was the inspiration for the shipyard's name.
In East Africa—particularly the eastern region—there were many place names ending in -gen, -den, or -burg, similar to southern Germany. However, the East African government itself rarely used such naming conventions.
That said, exceptions existed. For instance, the former Rufuma River served as the border between East Africa and Portuguese Angola. Due to its many military outposts, there were numerous places with the suffix "fort."
Many of East Africa's names were copied directly from Germany, so Bartkum Shipyard having a name like this wasn't surprising.
"Your Highness, our Bartkum Shipyard specializes in building small and mid-sized fishing boats. In this field, we rank among East Africa's top shipyards. We produce about 40 fishing boats annually, totaling over 2,000 tons—mostly for fishermen in the Pemba and Zanzibar Straits," the director explained.
Ernst observed the vessels in the yard—they were indeed small. That made the output rather impressive, especially considering East Africa's civilian shipping sector was underdeveloped.
You could see this from East African dietary habits. Despite having vast maritime territory, the population's seafood consumption was disproportionately low—understandable for a landlocked country, but East Africa had access to two oceans.
In contrast, inland lake shipbuilding thrived—especially around the Great Lakes. These areas were major hubs for grain and cash crops like rubber. With high export volumes, vessels were essential to transport goods to Kisumu, then transfer to rail, reaching Northern Railway cities or Mombasa for export.
Some also used Mwanza's branch railways to distribute to Central Railway cities, mainly serving domestic markets. Exporting from Dar es Salaam wasn't cost-effective—except when shipping to Australia or South America. Dar es Salaam had a geographical advantage, but at that time, Australia was essentially a prison colony, and South America produced similar goods—making them competitors.
"Last year, our coastal ship registry exceeded 7,000 vessels. This is the result of over a decade of effort, but we're still far from being a true maritime power," the Bartkum director admitted.
This didn't include vessels owned by the Hechingen Overseas Trading Company or those registered in Zanzibar. Adding both, East Africa had over 10,000 ships. Many Zanzibari vessels sailed under foreign flags like Oman, and the Hechingen company had even more shell registrations.
"Indeed, maritime exploration depends on ships as tools. Shipbuilding is also a measure of national strength. You must stay humble and focused, advancing step by step in technology and overcoming obstacles to contribute valuable experience to East Africa's shipbuilding industry," Ernst encouraged.
Bartkum Shipyard ranked in the middle tier of East Africa's shipbuilding sector. The leader was Bagamoyo Shipyard. In civilian shipbuilding, the top spot belonged to the two shipyards owned by the Hechingen Overseas Trading Company.
Bartkum's technology had mostly trickled down from these major players. East African shipbuilding was imported from Europe, and Bartkum received it second-hand, so it wasn't cutting-edge.
"Your Highness, we want to make progress, but we're limited. Our shipyard has only three technicians—hired at great expense from Austria. The rest are experienced veteran shipwrights, but their knowledge is passed down from generations. They're good at maintaining traditions, but innovation is hard. We can barely keep up by copying existing designs."
Ernst replied, "You don't need to rush. Every beginning is hard. East African shipbuilding has only been developing for a few years, and you've already built a solid foundation—that's progress. First master what you have. When we have more talent, things will naturally improve. Don't expect to build Rome in a day."
Bartkum Shipyard had faced real challenges when it first launched—starting from scratch. Today, it wasn't wealthy, but it was stronger than most competitors.
As a state-owned enterprise, it benefited from government subsidies over the years. Its development had gone smoothly, and worker benefits were relatively decent.
"Shipbuilding has changed drastically in the past few decades—thanks to advances in propulsion and materials. You must adapt. I understand that 60% of your core equipment comes from Europe. Start by studying the basics. Even if you can't replicate everything, learn how it works. Ideally, improve on it and address your own weaknesses."
Asking Bartkum to design its own ships was a stretch—but technological barriers were lower back then.
Take James Watt, for example. The man who improved the steam engine was a working-class engineer. East Africa lacked top-tier talent, but many middle-educated workers had modern schooling.
Bartkum employed many such workers. Beyond skilled craftsmen, many apprentices had at least a primary or secondary education. If they combined knowledge with practice, they could spot and solve real problems—it was a matter of probability.
Later, Ernst visited several more shipyards. Bagamoyo's facilities built not just ocean vessels, but also riverboats. After all, the city sat at the mouth of the Little Rhine.
Ernst was particularly interested in one military-affiliated shipyard. It was a subsidiary of Bagamoyo Shipyard, working on submarine research. No prototype existed yet.
Submarines' military value was already evident. By the 1880s, they entered a lull in global development—few nations prioritized them.
East Africa wasn't late to the party. Their test model could dive five or six meters. Ernst wondered: could they leapfrog others by investing now?
He planned to make submarines a key project of the East African Navy—possibly separating it into its own program. He'd recruit German talent to accelerate progress.
East Africa also had a natural testing ground: Lake Tanganyika (called Lake Soren). With an average depth over 500 meters and a maximum of 1,470 meters, it was second only to Lake Baikal—which the Soviets used for submarine testing.
Lake Soren's conditions rivaled Baikal's—minus the harsh Siberian logistics. Surrounded by key cities like Kigoma, Bujumbura, and Mbeya, it was at the heart of East Africa. Mbeya, the heavy industry hub, could fully support submarine development.
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